Of Lawyers, Detectives and Murder Cases
by Cheekygaya
Summary: Now 30 years of age, Hikigaya Hachiman is now serving the law. Everything appeared to be working out until a dead girl who he doesn't even know came into play, gashed open seemingly unhealed wounds and brought him back to the life he once left behind. The twist? A certain riajuu is accused of being the cause of it all.


**Chapter One:** Hikigaya Hachiman Never Changed. Or Did He?

* * *

Me being a lawyer is one thing.

But for Hayama Hayato, out of everyone, to need my help with a criminal case is another.

To say I didn't expect it would be an understatement. More like a bombshell considering how I resolved to completely detach myself from my past. Most of the people I was associated with respected my decision, few ones still kept in touch and the rest really just don't care. I classified Hayama as one of those who respected my choice to stay away.

And I was right. He kept his distance. It's not like he had any reason to still associate with me. Not like he had any reason to get off my radar either. It's almost as if he just understood the reason behind my decision and chose to go along with it. That's one thing I respect about him.

It has been 12 years since we graduated from Soubu. But just like that, almost as if payback for the stillness I was able to savour for quite some time, he came barging in like an unforeseen hurricane — along with a criminal charge on his name.

Despite taking pride in my profession as a legal practitioner, I am in no way obligated to help him. I have a choice. I can decide if I want to get involved or not.

But I chose to get involved regardless.

Uncharacteristic of me, huh? Well, it's been 12 years... and I have my reasons.

* * *

This mess started 2 days ago. Just another routine day in November. Outside is dull cold, and I was seated in a small, heated office, a cup of coffee at hand. Boss man-looking, but not really. The real deal told me to stay here to cool my head while he's dealing with the balding salaryman I almost punched in the face.

Trust me, corporate slaves nowadays are too thick to have a sensible talking with.

It took me ten minutes droning: "Yes, we can certainly do something about your employers and workplaces, but if your problem is about clogged office toilets, it's the plumbers you should have a chat with."

I was actually polite enough to repeat it one more time as he seemed to have a hard time hearing.

The bastard made me repeat five times.

Should have punched him on second thought.

The door cracked open as I was taking a sip from my cup. A bundle of fake blonde hair peeked in the gap. With the first two buttons of her blouse unattended, along with cosmetics as thick as Earth's mantle, our firm's receptionist frowned at me.

I frowned back. "What?"

"Someone's looking for you."

"Tell them I don't fix toilets."

A lopsided grin from her. "Sure you want to?"

"Sure I do."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

As she was closing the door, I suddenly noticed how eerily quiet it was outside of the office. The production floor would never be quiet unless all of our staff dropped dead at the same time. Those poor, overworked souls were always talking. Mostly shit-talk anyway. Shit-talking their spouses, shit-talking their dogs, their neighbours, their cars or even themselves. The point is, it was almost second nature for me to hear a dozen people blabbing their mouths simultaneously.

Not today though. Something is up.

"Hang on." Alarm bells were ringing inside my head. "Got a name with you?"

"You won't believe this." Her face was beaming with suppressed excitement.

"Try me."

I take pride in having an exceptional tolerance in surprises. From Komachi suddenly having a boyfriend 4 years older than her, to Komachi suddenly breaking up with him, only to find another boyfriend again, which happens to be 4 years younger than her. Name it. I believe I have already seen all sorts of fucked up shit.

But what she said next—

"Name's Hayama Keichi."

—that, I couldn't process at all.

* * *

Jaw dropped. Heart froze. I leant back on my leather swivel and stared at her.

"You gotta be kidding me..."

"I said you're not going to believe this."

A smile was plastered on the madwoman's face, satisfied with my reaction.

"Just go and have a look for yourself," she said, then shut the door.

I took a deep breath, refocused, then stood up. Hayama Keichi. Owner of the Hayama Real Estates. One of the wealthiest and respectable men on our prefecture. The big fish in the market. He might not be much of a celebrity, but this person is a big deal.

Not to mention he's Hayama's father.

"...what the hell is he doing here?" I mumbled to myself, stunned. He was looking for me. Me specifically. That means he wasn't just some demented elderly who got lost and accidentally ended up in a law firm two blocks away from the main square. Hayama Keichi had a purpose, and that purpose was linked to me.

But that's enough pondering. Whatever it was that man wanted, I would know as I open the door.

A mirror was installed to my left, and there was a person looking like an ex-convict glaring at me. Pair of dead eyes, unshaven, murderous looking. Horrible; not in the ideal state to face a multi-millionaire. Not in a state to face anyone, even. The fact that I almost assaulted a deaf salary-man minutes ago wasn't helping.

My features basically screamed: "Don't go near."

I sighed. Nothing could be done about the four days worth of stubble, but the eyes still have hope. I put on a pair of glasses; remedy for myopia. I was diagnosed a year ago which proved that my eyes are literally dying. They aren't on all the time, but they're useful when it comes to hiding these murderous assets of mine.

I looked at the mirror again, plaster on the smile I practised for years on my face, and up the stage went this professionally-trained ass-licker. I put my hand on the knob, twisted it; then as soon as the door swung open, I saw him.

Honestly, It's hard not to stand out when you're clad in a business suit a hundred times as expensive as those around you.

He was sitting cross-legged on the worn-out leather couch. Healthy black hair for someone his age, not blonde like his son's. Initial assessment would be as someone on better terms with money than the rest inside the building. Not flaunting it, but you could feel it, there.

His line of sight veered to my direction, and the second our eyes met, I was sure he recognized me. I didn't know how. For one, I didn't even know him personally. I only saw him at the news, at the magazines; but never in person.

He stood up before the receptionist could prompt him to and beamed to me like I was his personal Jesus.

"Hiya, Hikigaya-kun. I hope I didn't disturb you?"

Wondering how he had known my name was pointless. Rich folks know everything.

"Not at all. What can I do for you?" I held out a hand, we shook.

"I need to talk to you." He looked around, still with a smile, then whispers, "In private, if you will."

Behind him, my boss offered a subtle nod, authorizing the use of his office.

I nodded back. "Of course. Let's go somewhere we can talk."

I work for a small firm. Not a very fancy one, just enough to fit a couple of renegade lawyers like me in. Almost like a sanctuary for those who came out from law schools as arrogant douchebags only to stumble and collapse gloriously before they can even take their first step to the courtroom.

Usually, when a client drops by, we just handle our negotiations in a cubicle with a small table in between.

Obviously, today was an exception. That wouldn't do. This man asked for privacy. What a big shot wants, a big shot should get.

I led him to the office I left earlier. If he happened to be just another no-name, my boss wouldn't even spare him a look. But he was a _Hayama_. He understood at first glance that privacy was required. Bless him. It's always good to see that I wasn't working for stupid people.

While on the way, I watched the man in the spotlight. It's not intentional but, Hayama Keichi strode as if the whole place was his. Grand looking: premium clothes, expensive watch, polished shoes. Should be a geezer, but not too old-looking. Not yet anyway. A bit wrinkled, flecks of grey here and there. If he was only a bit younger, he'd look exactly like _him_.

For a moment, I tried to figure him out. Only questions came up.

Rogue employee? Case of plunder on his company? Him, the Hayama patriarch personally looking for me instead of some heavyweight corporate attorney? What could a renegade like me handle that the other lawyers couldn't?

_I need to talk to you._ Business problem?

We arrived at the boss' office slash conference room. I closed the door after letting my guest in. He curiously looked around.

"Nice office."

"Thanks. Not mine, though. Have a seat, please."

He sat parallel to me with a briefcase on his side. The whole picture seemed like an offbeat job interview. Me being the boss, and a multimillionaire as my applicant.

"Will I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

He gently shook his head. "Thank you. But I won't be long."

I ease with the smile. "So... What is it you want to talk about?"

His smile slipped a tiny a fraction and I can suddenly sense the gravity of the situation.

"Well, you see, Hikigaya-kun," he gravely replied while staring to my soul. "I have a request for you."

_Request_, he said.

My stomach churned a little. That one specific word sent a plethora of emotions back to me. Bittersweet memories I would rather not recall at this moment. I bet my car this man did that intentionally. Hayama Keichi knew more about me than he's letting on.

I breathed deeply and asked, "What could it be?"

He set his briefcase above the table, pulled out a manila-envelope and, with an earnest look on his face, handed it to me.

"Please help Hayato."

* * *

**Note: **I'm back. For those who don't know me, I'm that bastard who promised to post an update on one of my main stories, only to go MIA for a whole year. I'm very sorry. I will not go into detail, let's just say that after I left college, I found a job and became so in love with it. I have decided to slowly get back to the field though and will do my best to keep on writing consistently.

I understand if you feel like this chapter ended too abruptly. It's supposed to be longer but I decided to cut it into two parts and let this one serve as a teaser. I'm also aware of how OOC Hachiman sound at times. Some of them are intentional since this is a 12-years-after story. But I'll still try my best to bring out the Hikki in him later on.

Another thing I want to discuss is the progress of my other stories. LOOP will definitely be updated, I can guarantee that. However, I have decided to drop my Tokyo Ghoul x Oregairu crossover. I feel like the story just got dragged for too long to the point of becoming painfully boring. I have the whole universe mapped in my head but I no longer have the drive to write it all down. Perhaps in the future, I will consider rewriting it for the sake of not letting the idea go to waste.

Ciao.


End file.
